Chapter 185: He Slept on Her Bed, Sniffed Her Scent (Happy New Year!)

Xie Jin never expected Wei Ming's drawing skills were so good; when he wasn't satisfied with the final shot's storyboard, Wei Ming simply picked up a pencil and drew a new set himself.

It actually looked quite professional—his draftsmanship was solid!

Wei Ming: Of course, I'm a Level Three Art Technician.

And it had real cinematic feel—his aesthetic was highly refined. That sunset glow, the mother carrying her son while gazing at the father—pure, tender happiness radiated instantly!

"Xiao Wei, have you ever thought about becoming a director?" Xie Jin's tone had grown noticeably warmer.

Wei Ming smiled: "I'm interested in anything interesting—film certainly included."

Xie Jin chuckled bitterly: "You, if you devoted your heart entirely to literature, your future achievements would be limitless—perhaps your name would follow Lu, Guo, Mao, Ba, Lao, and Cao. But I have a feeling you'll never be content being just a writer."

Wei Ming: Feels like he's hinting I'm not focused?

"Being an expert isn't necessary—being a polymath is fine too."

Xie Jin: "Xiao Wei, you're being modest—you're at least a scholar."

Wei Ming yawned: "Then I'll head off to rest, Xie Dao. I'll watch tomorrow's shoot and learn more from you then."

He was genuinely curious about 1980s film sets.

In his past life, he'd spent over twenty years in film and television, mostly as a screenwriter and producer; once, on a film project where the director was useless, he stepped in himself—and the movie made money.

But directing was exhausting—often he went without sleep for nights on end.

If you were just a figurehead director who only shouted "Cut!" and "Action!", sure, it was easy—any idiot could do it.

But if you had no capable assistant directors or cinematographers, wanted to make a film with your own style, and refused to tarnish your reputation—it was actually very hard.

Wei Ming and Uncle Ping'an had rented a room at the guesthouse, but he couldn't return to it—Uncle said he hadn't seen him in days and had a lot to talk about with Aunt Xiao Yan.

Wei Ming wasn't a virgin—he understood.

So with nowhere else to go, he went with Lele to find Brother Xi.

Just as Gong Ying was wondering where Wei Ming had gone, there was another knock at the door. Xi rushed to open it—and there stood his beloved Little Ming-ge.

Gong Ying, having anticipated this, managed her expression perfectly: a touch of just-right surprise and curiosity.

"Are you here to find Lele and Xi?" she asked.

"Not exactly," Wei Ming said. "I have nowhere to go—I'm looking for a quiet haven to stay."

Gong Ying, already guessing the reason, smiled: "I can put you up, but it won't be very quiet."

Xi was never a quiet kid, and now that his sister had arrived, he was even more rowdy—he'd just been enthusiastically showing off his acting to her.

Wei Ming shut the door casually: "That's fine. Just sitting here is good. Can I sit here?"

Xi said: "That's Xue Mama's bed."

And Xue Mama was already sitting on it—and there weren't even any chairs.

Gong Ying, embarrassed, lifted her quilt: "Go ahead, sit."

She'd only meant to take a nap—definitely not that she'd forgotten to make her bed in the morning.

Wei Ming wasn't thinking of anything improper—he was just wondering: if he slept on this bed, would Sister Xue allow it?

After all, they hadn't seen each other in months; their closeness had been maintained only by phone calls and letters. He started chatting about the filming, trying to rebuild familiarity.

Wei Ming: "Is filming in the northwest really that hard?"

Xi: "Filming's fun! Not hard at all!"

Wei Ming: Who asked you?!

Wei Ming asked again: "I just talked with Director Xie—he said you're doing great, a real talent."

Xi: "How exactly did he praise me?"

Wei Ming lied: "He said you've got the makings of a movie god—your future is limitless."

Xi: "What's a movie god?"

Wei Ming: "In Hong Kong and Taiwan, they call great actors 'movie gods.'"

"And what's Hong Kong and Taiwan?"

Wei Ming: "Are you the Ten Thousand Whys?"

"Ming-ge, I know you're Wei something—Ten Thousand Whys means Ten Thousand of you, right!"

Wei Ming: Aaaah!!!

This brother can't stay!

Wei Ming's anger surged—he pulled a comic book from his bag.

"Xi Za, take this. If you don't understand anything, ask Lele—she knows it all."

The comic was "Little Lingtong's Journey Through the World," published by Liaoning Fine Arts Publishing House, written by Ye Yonglie—who had helped compile "Ten Thousand Whys." This novel later inspired the name of a future communication device.

It told the story of a young reporter, Little Lingtong, traveling through a futuristic city—science fiction, perfect for Xi.

He finally fell silent, no longer interrupting.

Gong Ying then asked about the comic.

"When will the finished version be out?"

"Long and the others are still drawing—they're going all out for the first edition." As he spoke, Wei Ming shifted from sitting to leaning back against the bed.

Gong Ying saw his exhaustion: "Was the train ride really that tiring?"

"Yes, yes!" Finally, she said it.

"Would you like to lie down for a bit?" Wei Ming didn't hesitate: "Can I take off my coat?"

Gong Ying: "Need help taking it off?"

This older sister was too kind—but Wei Ming didn't push further. He took off his coat and shoes, lay down on her bed, and pulled the quilt over his stomach.

Gong Ying took his coat and hung it up.

Though Sister Xue hadn't just gotten out of bed, he could still smell the unique feminine fragrance of the quilt—would be even better if it carried more warmth.

Wei Ming lay down. Gong Ying went to join Xi and Lele, reading the comic, occasionally glancing at Wei Ming out of the corner of her eye.

At first he slept peacefully—but when he turned over, he tucked the quilt between his legs.

Gong Ying's heart fluttered slightly—as if he'd clamped not the quilt, but herself.

Just then, Xi said he was hungry. Gong Ying said: "Lele must be hungry too—let's go eat."

She walked to the bed, bent down, and looked at Wei Ming: "Xiao Wei, want dinner?"

!

Wei Ming opened his eyes, dazed: "What time is it?"

"Eight."

Wei Ming gasped: "I slept that long?!"

He'd only meant to nap a little.

Gong Ying smiled: "The sun just set—the sky isn't even dark yet."

"Huh?"

Wei Ming sat up and looked out the window—sure enough, the sun had dipped below the horizon, the sky glowing red. He'd almost forgotten: this was the west, not Beijing—different time zone.

Wei Ming asked: "Are there any good restaurants near the guesthouse?"

"Restaurants? We eat at the guesthouse canteen."

"Is the canteen food good?"

"Just being full is enough—don't be picky." Gong Ying reached out to pull the lazy boy off her bed.

A sensible child would've vanished by now—but Xi and Lele were utterly absorbed watching the scene.

Wei Ming was yanked up by a woman smaller and weaker than him—had there been no two little light bulbs watching, Sister Xue might've been dragged into the quilt with him.

But at least Wei Ming had held her small hand—this hand should've been softer, smoother—but during this time of experiencing life, she'd worked daily; he could even feel the calluses on her palm.

"Sister Xue, did you hide something under your quilt? I felt something poking me."

Gong Ying's heart skipped—had she carelessly wrapped her underwear in the quilt?

She couldn't risk it—she told Wei Ming to get up so she could check herself.

When her hand slipped under the quilt, she touched something unfamiliar.

She pulled it out—a beautifully crafted, high-end glass bottle, perhaps cosmetics? Covered in English script—she couldn't read a word.

"What's this?"

Wei Ming explained: "It's a facial cleanser I got from a Hong Kong friend—American brand, Maybelline."

"Maybelline?" Gong Ying murmured—the name sounded lovely, made her feel she'd become beautiful after using it. But what did Wei Ming mean by this?

Wei Ming: "It's a gift for you. You wrote that the northwest winds and sand ruined your skin. This film's soul is the male lead—your role is small, but your sacrifice is great. As the original author, I have to show my appreciation."

Gong Ying was filled with regret—why had she told him that?

She never expected a casual remark would earn such a precious gift—she'd seen beauty products in overseas Chinese stores; each was a fortune to her.

As she was moved, Xi suddenly blurted: "Brother, I sacrificed too—I haven't eaten meat in ages!"

Wei Ming laughed: "So there really isn't a restaurant around the guesthouse?"

Gong Ying: "There is one—but the crew won't reimburse us, and it's expensive—and you need coupons."

Expensive meant quality—Wei Ming immediately said: "Then we eat there tonight. I've got no coupons—let's go!"

Gong Ying hesitated, then slipped the Maybelline under her pillow.

Ten minutes' walk brought them to the restaurant she'd mentioned.

The state-run eatery's specialty was beef noodles—with real chunks of beef—and also braised beef and lamb offal.

Wei Ming treated the three women to a hearty meal—but Sister Xue's appetite was tiny: she ordered a small bowl and even picked out a strand of noodles for Wei Ming first.

No wonder she's so slim—Wei Ming glanced at Sister Xue's chest.

After finishing dinner and returning to the guesthouse, he happened to see Uncle Anping and his wife heading for the canteen.

Learning that their children had all eaten, Aunt Xiaoyan felt relieved—she'd been so focused on satisfying her own hunger.

Uncle Anping also told Wei Ming to go back to their room and rest; they had already cleaned it.

Tonight's arrangement was for Xi Zi to sleep with his father and older brother, and Le Le to sleep with his mother. Wei Ming brought Xi Zi back to the room, but he suddenly wasn't sleepy at all.

Gong Ying couldn't sleep either; she traced the glass bottle beneath her pillow, wondering how to use it—and how Wei Ming could have friends in Hong Kong.

Was this friend a man or a woman?

……

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(End of chapter)